


the burning wait

by woahpip



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, LysiClaude Week, Time Skip Phase, day 1: sweets, inevitable mentions of an early death, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24930262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip
Summary: the post-script saidsweets for the sweetest
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: LysiClaude Week 2020





	the burning wait

**Author's Note:**

> written for LysiClaude week, day 1: sweets!
> 
> (title from the hozier fanfic title generator)

The soldiers stationed near her home keep dropping off packages. Her parents, who love her so much but are so scared to be around her, eye them but say nothing. They don’t ask who they’re from or what they are. 

It hurts that they don’t seem to care. She decides it’s not worth telling them the truth.

The first package was a small hunk of sour apple taffy and a short letter. Claude’s writing was messier than usual; Lysithea hoped he was only letting his guard down because it was her, and not because he was overworked. His enemies can’t think he’s tired. His letter said the opposite: he was bright-eyed, ready to help the Alliance. Limiting bloodshed was a huge goal of his, one she shared. No one dying unless they’re truly evil was an idea they discussed during many late-night library sessions.

The post-script said _sweets for the sweetest_. She laughed so loud eventually her mother came to investigate, made sure she wasn’t crying.

*

A few months later, a larger box with “very fragile” written across the top was waiting for her in the dining room. Her parents were curious but not demanding. Who cared who flirted with her, when she was bound to die? They wouldn’t let her marry well to make sure they were taken care of, and at this point she’d rather fight herself into the ground than pretend to be a good wife.

The cake is strawberry with lemon buttercream. “Are you sleeping well?” is written across it in pink royal icing.

“He asked you send an answer.”

Lysithea jumped at the voice, and turned to see the assumed delivery boy in the corner.

“Yeah, I’ll write him a note.”

_C—_

_I’ll sleep when I’m dead._

_—L_

She wrote on the back of a napkin, folded up with no stamp. The soldier shrugs like he’s used to that shit, and she imagines Claude sending half-assed letters on borrowed paper.

“Who’s asking about your sleep?” her mother asks, finally interested in placing a name to the package giver.

_The future King of Unification? The Alliance leader, my house leader? My boyhood crush?_

“Someone I barely know mother.”

They cut the cake without another word.

*

Blue Sea Moon comes and envelopes the Ordelia household in heat. Lysithea would rather stay in her room, avoiding the sad stares her parents send her way. She had asked them if they wanted to help her research, but neither felt up to the task.

They had already given up hope, Lysithea realized. Well she wouldn’t. She didn’t have long to live but it was too long to wait for the end without even trying.

Today she settled herself under an oak tree, its wide canopy keeping her as cool as it could. In the distance she saw her experimental plant garden. Mostly edible herbs, some used in goddess rituals and some used in other rituals for the outdoor gods. Claude used to share books with her, ones he smuggled from Almyra, ways to recognize deities that were like the goddess but…more. He always maintained he didn’t believe in them either but she could tell he felt a pull to their magic, their energy.

His birthday was towards the end of the month, but she already forced a soldier she saw in town to deliver her gift. No sweets, only some dried ritual herbs and a long note. She wrote about a ritual she’d read in one of his books. How she hoped he was protected; about herself, she wrote hardly nothing. Time was passing slow and she was reading and working and practicing her magic, hard as ever. At the end her body screams: _sign off with I miss you. You do._

She kept herself in check, but does end the letter with

_Yours,_

_Lysithea_

and hoped he got the message.

*

The packages grew scarce. Sometimes he sent her notes quickly scratched onto stained parchment. He never said much. _I’m safe. This last battle was tough, but we won. I could use your brain right about now._

She itched to join. Lysithea wanted to fight so badly. Claude’s cause was just and meaningful. She wanted to help him succeed. He was smart and calculated. Sometimes too much. He needed someone around to help temper that, to let him know when a situation calls for scheming and when it calls for being honest.

_I can’t be honest with myself, but I can be about tactics._

She started planning her return to Garreg Mach for their five-year reunion. The one they promised to meet up for a lifetime ago.She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

*

They are together again. The group decided to camp on the outskirts of Garreg Mach until they could evaluate the buildings. It was warm outside and Lysithea planned on reading by the fire until she fell asleep. She’d have a bed again, her old bed if she was lucky. Sleeping on the ground for one night would be no big worry.

But Claude himself asked her to stay with him

_To talk strategy,_ he said, unusually shy. No one else at the fire said anything. She doubted anyone but Lorenz cared who slept with who. Hilda even encouraged her to pack up her bedroll and book, like she knew Lysithea wouldn’t be back.

She tried not to read too much into it.

Claude’s tent was small, with his own pallet in the center. He had a collapsable table and chair in a corner, stacked with parchment. His failnaught was slung in another corner, arrows peeking out from the quiver, one arrowhead up _for luck_ Claude always said but she didn’t know why.

He gestured toward the single chair and she sat in it, waiting. They only spoke to each other during the battle, when he screamed an order and she blindly followed, trusting him so fucking much even after all this time, yelling back at him what was happening.

“Your lodgings aren’t…super royal.” She finally decided to break the silence but regretted what she said instantly. His stoic face broke for just a second and he flinched.

“Yeah well, got a lot of fighting left before I can live like one I guess.”

His voice was low. She looked at him head on. Instantly she missed his little braid; she used to dream about touching it, tucking it behind his ear or rubbing her thumb across the bit of hair left under the elastic. The new facial hair could fill that void. Her hands twitched, wanting to feel the texture of his trimmed beard. All she wanted was to hold his face and feel his weight settle between her hands. Show him she could hold it.

She gripped the edge of her skirt instead, nervous. Five years ago, she’d have said whatever she pleased. She found herself slightly more cautious now but her death countdown, always there, sometimes quiet, reminded her that she needed to say what she felt, because she didn’t have long.

He stepped closer to her. Leaning down, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gave the tiniest of squeezes. He tilted his head like he was thinking. For a moment she thought he would lean all the way down and kiss her like a man who gave gifts during war would kiss.

“I brought you something. Maybe this time we can share?”

They stay frozen and close together until she nods, unable to say a word. He straightens up and she blushes, embarrassed at how she was disappointed. From a small pouch on the table, he pulls out something wrapped in butcher paper.

“Strawberry licorice?”

He lets her unwrap the package. There were ten long pieces of twisty candy, plenty enough for them to share.

“Did you really want to talk strategy, or just wanted to hide that you didn’t buy enough candy for everyone?” Lysithea asked him, ending her question with a yawn. The day had been long but she didn’t want it to end yet. She broke a piece of licorice in half and passed it to him.

He smiled at her, a warm smile she hardly saw back in their Academy days. “You need your beauty sleep of course. We all worked hard.” He pauses before the last bit but finally moves on. “You can stay here, if you wish.”

She hated her need to question everything but didn’t stay quiet.

“You aren’t afraid what the others will say?”

He moves to his own roll, sighing as he reclines back— probably his first bit of rest all day she realizes.

“I don’t think any of them care, at least not enough to do anything about it. They decided to join too. I trust them as they trust me. And I want you to stay. It’s nice to see you again.”

She said nothing, rolling out her bedroll so her feet would be in line with Claude’s, chewing her candy. A breeze flittered through the thin tenting, fluttering through her hair. When she settled, she turned to see him staring at her, mouth slightly open like he was surprised.

“Is there something wrong?”

He shook his head, keeping his secrets. 

They stayed silent, getting comfortable. It had been a longer day than Lysithea originally thought, her eyes drooping as soon as they leaned back. She smiled as Claude tried to get comfortable, his toes wiggling against hers. Once he blew the lantern out, the tent went dark except for a sliver of firelight that inched through the tent flaps. They were in the middle of war but Lysithea hadn’t felt this safe in years.

“Thank you. For the sweets, and the letters. It was nice to know you hadn’t forgotten about me,” she whispered, not sure if he could hear.

“Of course I hadn’t forgotten. Thank you for answering me. And thank you for the herbs. It meant more than you know.”

She had no answer, instead pushing her feet against his, figuring he’d understand. Before she drifted off, she thought of the herbs she could now grow in the greenhouse, and if he had anymore Almyran books for her to borrow. Maybe magic from another land could help her; maybe she’d tell him once the war was over, and his smart brain could help her scour every text until she found an answer.

If he sent the sweets, he had to care about her. If he cared about her, he wouldn’t want her to die. The hope was almost enough to make her burst.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> i'm woahpip on tumblr.


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